Sombre Joys
by Aura
Summary: A DOTV type of fan fiction. Creative critisism and reviews -very- welcome. Only going to continue if I have feedback. Chapter 8 added.
1. Default Chapter

The wind was light as it swept through the large graveyard on the early winter evening. Sweeping up some snow gathered thickly on the rooftops and letting it fall over the cemetery, lightly blanketing the recently cleared paths with a new thin lair of white. There was a serene quiet to the place. No birds sang, having weeks before flown south for the colder months. Only the sound of the chimes on the trees showed any sign of disturbance to the place.

The ideal of calmness continued into the very appearance of the place. Leafless trees now holding icicles in replacement of foliage. Sitting like a tired mother of kittens as her young played and hung over her with nothing more then the occasional sigh of shifting branches to show her calm repose. Snow gathered wherever it could that wasn't on a main path or important grave, resting itself after the storm of the night before, content to just sit and melt so it could return on another day. Squirrels and other creatures slumbered in their warm burrows, prepared to sleep away the months to come and not wake again until the birds returned and the lazy snow melted into spring.

The small parish at the back of the land had a tranquil ambience to it. Stain glass windows showed deceiving scenes of open roses and summer gardens. The main window having a hypnotic, relaxing, flower-like pattern to it. The angels on the corners of the building lounged on carved clouds, holding a pitcher off of any edge of the cloud, another icicle hanging from the places where water would pour. A few more angels played, one of the mischievous cherubs resembling cupid holding an arrow down toward the yard, waiting to unleash love on the unwary of his antics.

The gates around the yard were a little less welcoming. The high iron wrought fences holding tips at the top. Snarling gargoyle faces warded off children and many not of the parish or visiting passed on friends or family from coming to the small place. A haven of god protected by demons.

The wicked appearance of the walls didn't deter a young woman from opening them and slipping inside, her footsteps softly crunching on the snow underfoot as her breath showed lightly from under the hood of her think cloak.

The long cloak seemed a bit too large for her as it drug just a little on the ground behind her. The end of the deep green cloth almost black from being wet after being drug over the ground. She wore Grey, White, and Black dress that was a beautiful combination of colors. The wide skirt was the black, while the upper half of the dress slowly changed from black to shades of gray until it became white around the collar and sleeves. It was of an exceptional quality but seemed to have a bit of wear and tear to it, not as bright as it had once been. However well it was kept, time changes everything, and it's age was shown in the faded colors. In contrast she wore new ladies gloves that were black.

She walked slowly though the graveyard, not worried of seeing anyone else here in this place, now knowing that she was being watched however. Blissfully unaware of the pitiful creature that stalked her from the growing shadows of the evening. She sat at a bench that surrounded a small and currently unused fountain of the goddess Artemis. Her divine being sat on a fountain smiling as she poured a wine glass from the heavens, reclining joyfully on a quarter moon. The woman sat at the fountain, a soft smile creasing her features for just a moment as she lowered her hood carefully with both hands.

Her face wasn't totally French, holding a bit of Russian or perhaps German with the high cheekbones and deep features. She let long silky black hair fall out of the hood where it had been held, it was a bit dull, as though it wasn't cleaned as often as it could have been. She had a well proportioned face, thing but very red lips that were in a slight frown, as though trapped there after holding the expression for too long a period. Her eyes are what truly gave away her sadness though. A brilliant emerald washed green that held some vast anguish. Some waking body, with a dieing soul.

She watched the fountain silently, eyes looking over the extreme detail the probably now dead and forgotten artist had painstakingly put into it. Not even a name had been left on the monument.

The man watching her kept easily to the lengthening shadows of the yard, daring to get closer even than the most masterful spies. He knew he wouldn't be seen, he knew he was the best. There was no question in his mind of his ability to remain unseen by this girls eyes. A sadly immortal genius…perhaps not all his work had been unfruitful however. She seemed to admire his old statue.

"_I've had less productive beauty…made forever to live trapped…"_

He forced his mind away from that unnecessary path, pushing the memories that haunted his mind so vividly away as he instead concentrated on this young and infuriating girl. Didn't she know this place was suppose to be haunted? That many murders had happened here to the unwary over the years at night, when none on the streets were ever truly safe. Now she had just nonchalantly sauntered in and had a seat at _his_ bench. It both enraged and fascinated him, he had never raised his hand to a woman, but they grew exasperatingly more insistent of their rights while becoming less of a lady and more of someone that wished they had been born a man.

If he had thought it was one of those women, he might not have hesitated to make a meal of her. But she had such a delicate and curious shyness to her that he simply knew that wasn't the case with her.

"_Apple perfume?" _he thought.

He could smell it suddenly, almost taste it, in the air. He hadn't noticed it right away, so lightly it had been applied.

"_So very sad…" _his thoughts continued as he watched her, "_no, she is not one of the less tolerable females. The few that exist."_

He backed away from her then, his attention moving to the door of the parish. He watched the father exist and walk over to the woman. Another barely tolerable being that, making plans to meet with women here at this time. A pastor no less. An amused smile passed his lips, so much for the holiness of the world.

The father was old, probably in his seventy's. He was bent over slightly, age trapping him in the position that would slowly make him descend further. His face was friendly a smile on it, the wrinkles there proof that he was quite comfortable in it. He had kind brown eyes under white bushy eyebrows. His hair was the same white as the powder on the ground. He wore a catholic fathers outfit. Very simple but clean, a smile came to his old and wrinkled features and he walked to the girl slowly.

"Diana," he whispered after a moment, a soft almost reverent tone of voice, "please, come inside."

"But it's so nice out here," she said after another moment. Her voice an entrancing soft musical thing. So sad in it's tone that it could have pulled tears from the most stout of men. It certainly drew the man in the shadows further toward her again.

"Can we speak out here?"

"Yes," the father said, a sigh escaping him as he watched her, "what do you need my child?"

"A reason," she answered, looking at her hands as a child would, as though she had done some great wrong.

"A reason for what child?" the father asked patiently, a kindness in his voice as he sunk slowly to his seat, the effort of getting there taking a little while. 

The man turned his head, chancing closer again. Drawn to this oddly exotic woman, very curious of the whole thing. Her response catching even he by surprise.

"For living," she said softly.

The long pause after her answer became painfully obvious to the man watching. He glared at the minister unseen hating him for not saying something, anything , to this poor girl. The chimes only rang softly in the background, more snow blowing off the ceiling and the trees to swirl around the three lightly. The silence growing to a near intolerability…

"I am sorry father,' her voice finally broke the silence, "I have sinned."

She continued to watch her lap. Convinced after the long pause that her thoughts were indeed sinful.

"No child," the father corrected her quickly, "you are sad. God forgives all his children. He will give you strength. All happens under him for a reason."

She just nodded, but it was so painfully obvious that she was just being agreeable, that she didn't believe him at this point. Her eyes were devoid of happiness, any slight joy at all. Just some large mechanical marionette…she had lost all faith.

The man moved closer again to her, so close and yet no where near her. He wanted to reach out, stroke her cheek, and he wanted to slap the father. He resisted both temptations, getting involved would only mean trouble. He was suppose to only watch from the sidelines. _But…still…_

He moved gracefully to the side as the father moved close to him. Narrowing his eyes on the man in an unexplainable hate. The emotion so strongly came from him that the shiver that came from the priest was not from the cold.

The father bent to her and patted her hands though, assuming the shake was just age and the elements of the cold mountain atmosphere. His hands were even wrinkled as though he had been in the water for too long a period of time. Their feel that of the skin of some shaved dog.

"Child," he started softly, "I have known you since you were born. I knew your father and your mother since they were children. I know you cannot begin to express the pain you feel, but I was there for them. I only hope that I can be of some small comfort to you. The church is always open to you if you need it. You should get home soon though, this place is not safe once the sun falls. Your parents would be worried about you if they knew you were here. You will find your way."

She just nodded for a while and looked back at the fountain, mumbling a quiet concurrence to leave soon. He frowned, patted her hand again, and walked inside after a moment with a sigh, the sound of his rough coughing reaching outside after he went in, so quiet it was.

The man in the shadows slipped closer again, watching her but remaining apart from her. His heart fell slightly when she started to cry, why was it people had to come to this place for this. No one had even died. It mattered little. The woman was beautiful. She was familiar…so very familiar…the daughter of the innkeeper? That was it.

She sniffed, pushing the tears from her eyes, "I want so much more then this…"

The whisper was not loud, but he didn't need any sort of keen hearing, not at all. He could hear her easily. He eavesdropped with intense curiosity for this girl. Not too interesting in getting out to hunt just yet.  
She broke down into further tears, her mumbles barely audible to the man. The sun setting but he only watched her, not worried about playing a ghost for the time being. Wondering quietly if there was anything that he could do to help. He could hardly expose himself to her. There would be a huge fiasco, and he couldn't afford it with his plans right now.

"_Why do I even care?" _he asked himself, "_this will only be a problem to everything I've worked so hard for. I've murdered people without a thought, drained the life of women as beautiful between reading the chapters of a book."_

The mystery only furthered his curiosity of her. Then a sudden outburst drew his attention.

"I want so much more then this! Trapped forever in the same life as my parents and grandparents…" she sighed, looking toward the heavens as though asking for some help, " settling down, getting married. Having fourteen little children all named after other members of the family. Being the little wife…"

Her strength seemed to fail her though as she fell to her knees continuing to cry.

He had taken a step forward, almost given away his position. His mind screamed at him for his moment of weakness, he agreed with it on this occasion. Again utterly exasperated by this woman. No one had made him do a thing he hadn't thought out for a century, and yet here he was, almost ready to walk out and comfort her. The idea still nagging at him under the surface, but he secured and kept it there for the time. Nothing would control him. He simply refused.

Then an idea hit him. A grin coming to his lips that would frighten any of his boyars into not leaving their rooms for a month. A gift she seemed to want. The asker can't be picky after all. Less than a gift from heaven, but something greater. A gift from hell. What better then a different life then a chance to live forever? Yes…what a marvelous idea. He would have to be patient however. Take it all very slowly. Time however, was one thing he had in spades. He laughed lowly as he left the grounds, let the laugh and the slamming of the gate frighten her if it would. There were so many things to plan!


	2. Chapter 2

A sigh was the only sound other then the pound of the horses outside. A young man sat in the heavily decorated carriage of a foreign noble, sitting deeper then what would normally be seen as proper. He was handsome in a roguish way. He had dirty blonde hair, combed but still out of place a bit. Clear blue eyes watched out a window in boredom. He wore a very expensive outfit, thick pants made from the fur of the blackest panthers, and a white silk shirt over his undergarments that helped to keep him warm. There was a rapier with a curled and gem inlaid hilt kept in a black leather scabbard on his belt with his other pouches and a riding crop The chain of a golden pocket watch ran from his belt to his pocket. His family coat of arms; a unicorn and a griffon in a fighting stance, was pinned to the neck of his shirt. Tight black leather gloves over his hands. A scarf around his neck and a thick coat left open over his outfit. His boyish features twisted into an annoyed scowl.

The carriage was an expensive build of royal purple cloth, deep expensive oak wood, and gold trim. It held the coat of arms of one of the dukes of England the family represented, as well as the royal coat of arms and then a large family coat on either side, and on the front. A driver controlled no less than 4 magnificently bred chestnut colored stallions. Two extra running along behind either side.

Sharing the upper class carriage was a second man that looked…crow like…to explain him easily. He had thick black hair that was always uncombed. He had small, beady like dark eyes, and a large hooked nose. Thin almost colorless lips. Angular features. Somewhat pointy ears that looked as though they were deformed. He wore a black hunting outfit and a thick bear fur coat. Even his voice was squawky somehow. Having a grating quality that was rather annoying.

"Calm down," the crow-like companion said to the other man, "you get overly antsy whenever we get close to a new town. As though your visiting the candy shop and your eleven. It is going to be there when we arrive."

"Bram," he laughed at his friends comments, "you need to get more excited. Doesn't anything put a spark in your eye?"

"No," came the expected response.

Another laugh, "figures, your mother probably never let you play with the other boys."

"Why would she have needed too?" he said with a seriousness that made the better dressed man start to wonder.

"Seriously," the younger man asked, "why the attitude? Your usually not this bad."  
A shrug as the man looked out the window, a sigh escaping him.

"Not getting off that easily mister," he pressed with a playful tone.

"Anthony," he said as a quick and grave warning that he did not wish to be bothered.

"Fine," the younger man muttered, half-pouting, "be all gloomy and sad. Christ. Just trying to have a good mood."

"Don't use the lord's name in vain."

The younger man looked about to snap at his friend when his friend nodded out the window and he grew more serious glancing out at the thick forests.

"What?"

"The forest," Bram said.

"Yeah?" he asked, "it's the same annoying Forest we've been going through for three days."

"It is thinner here," he answered, "see the trunks there. We are ahead of schedule. I imagine we'll reach a city within the hour or two. There are less animals around here as well. All the trees look less alive…as though some poison has made the very land ill."

"Oh," Anthony answered, looking to see that which his mentor spoke of. Growing serious with the knowledge. He never seemed to notice anything on his own, it was aggravating. He didn't understand why he needed such a good understanding of such things anyway. He had servants like Bram to do it for him. Father was so daft. Besides, why Bram of all people? He was a wonderful fellow but not exactly cheerful. Ever. This whole trip hadn't taught him anything anyway.

"You seem troubled," Bram said, eyes still out the window on something. Something Anthony figured he probably couldn't notice anyway so he didn't try.

"Just restless," he answered, it wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie.

"I realize you don't appreciate my teachings," Bram said quietly, "however you will someday understand them. I don't wish to stay in this city for more then a night…two at most."

"but…why?" Anthony said, ready to protest now. They hadn't been to a city or an inn in weeks. Both were in need of a good rest. So were the horses before they left on the week or more trip to the small province they were sent to visit on this damned trip in the first place. This endless wasteland of snow and forest hadn't looked any different to Anthony since they'd arrived and started this long journey.

"There are things of this world that are best left alone," Bram answered, eyes worried at whatever it was he watched, "the mountains and the unknown areas of Russia are best left just that. We are outsiders here, we should go quickly else we get drawn into whatever sickness holds this land."  
"Bram, that is a very unchristian view of things," Anthony said sourly, "I'm not about to give up a good few days of rest and entertainment just because you think some nameless evil holds sway here. Even out here in the middle of this snowy hell they believe in god. You shouldn't act so much like you don't. Your words teeter on heresy."

"Nonetheless," Bram answered quietly, "your god has demons. And I'd rather not meet any of them if it's all the same. We will stay two days. That is all."

Anthony stared at him quietly, there wasn't much he could say. Bram was as nice as he could imagine a knight that served under his father. Still, Anthony knew that he would be left in this city if he didn't go when his mentor did. He ground his teeth quietly as he fumed at being unable to do anything about it.


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you mean you do not have the cloth? I gave you the money to order it almost two months ago!" an annoyed voice half-yelled/half-whined at the tailor, "Get it and get the job done!"

The man speaking was very…feminine to list the first word that came to mind when one looked upon him. He was beautiful, if in a strange sort of exotic way. He had a lithe body that was wiry. Long blonde hair was pulled out of his face, kept back with an old-styled pony tail. He was very pale, with smooth skin, as though it was washed and rounded out stone. His face was perfect, with features worthy of a porcelain doll, and just as painted. Lime colored green eyes were narrowed on the woman before him. He wore a set of hunting breeches that were a deep brown leather with a long sleeved deep green velvet shirt. A signet ring of his position of baron on his left hand.

The place in which he stood was a simple store with different types of cloth hanging from areas, half finished jobs littered all over in an order only the tailor could have understood. Many expensive silks and velvet patterns were out on the table before the younger man.

The owner, a slightly older woman, likely in her forties. Though the growing amount of gray in her black hair was a sign she could be or at least feel much older. She had almond shaped and colored eyes that seemed to take up much of her face so widened as they were now. She was slightly pale, but not so much as the man before her. More of a sickly pallor to her. Circles drawn deeply under her large eyes. Face wrinkled slightly. She wore a rather simple tan colored dress, faded further from age. A white apron with a few dye stains on it's front over her dress. Her hair up in a bun though several pieces sat outside of the main mass. 

She nodded fearfully in response to his yells, pushing hair from her face as it fell with the quick movement.

"Y..yes sir. I unders..stand," she stuttered and shook slightly.

The man paused then, considering her thoughtfully before speaking again.

"Since you are so late with my order, I except an extra set of clothing before the month is out." he said coldly and turned sharply to leave.

The woman didn't offer any protest, just watching him leave with a sigh of relief.

The mans eyes swept the main road of the city, pausing on an approaching carriage with a curious, lustful glint to his eyes. He stalked that way in a graceful step that could have been the practiced walk of a skilled member of a ballet. Eyes moving along the driver to the decorated purples and gold's before pausing to recognize a few of the coats of arms carved into the door. A baron of Germany? How simply marvelous a day.

His thoughts turned toward the coming party but paused as he watched the Baron's son Anthony exit the carriage. Eyes glancing over the attractive man with an appreciation normally left to the female gender. His tongue wetting his lips as his mind played through a few possible scenario's.

A twitch gauged his face as he continued to watch, the crow-like Bram following Anthony from the carriage. Not that he was unattractive as much as considered competition by the very odd feminine fellow watching from the darkness of the side street where he had been staring.

"Anthony," Bram's squawky voice commanded his attention, "Go to the Inn, get two rooms and board for the horses. I need to speak with a few of the locals. Don't dally or get distracted."

The younger of the two men nodded with a roll of his eyes.

"Yeah yeah Bram," he muttered, "I'm going, I'm going."

He headed away from the coach then. Walking down the street toward the area where he figured the inn was. The following man hurried around the next building with an unnatural speed. Ending up in front of his new obsession.

"Hello," he offered just as Anthony started to pass, forcing his eyes to the man's face.

Anthony paused, turning toward the nobleman and smiling some, offering a bow. Figuring him tolerable company at least.

"Hello," Anthony returned with the smile remaining, offering a hand, "I'm Anthony of Berlin. I apologize but I wasn't aware there were any nobles over this small city."

The man canted his head slightly as he listened, a smile coming to his lips as he put a hand out and shook Anthony's. His voice slightly oddly accented though definitely Romanian.

"The pleasure is all mine An-toe-knee of Berlin," he returned, his pronunciation slow so he could take his time with the lovely name, "I am Baron Herbert of Buila."

He held Anthony's hand a little longer then the normal before releasing it but he simply pushed it off as some odd local custom. Glad to have someone else not a peasant to speak with of things, anything at all.

"How are you then Baron?" Anthony asked as he walked, noticing that he had simply fallen into step with where he was heading. Had to be boring out here though so outside news had to be a wonder.

"I am very well now An-toe-knee," he replied his eyes not leaving him, "I am always glad to receive a foreign noble. Now is such a good time for you to be in the city as well. There is a ball being held this weekend. Nobles from all over Russia are to arrive."

"Really?" was the shocked question that followed, "I wouldn't have thought that the area was large enough to play host to such a revelry."

"We have our ways," Herbert said with a grin, "will you come? I would love to have you."

"This weekend, I wouldn't be able too, we are leaving the city in two days," he said, losing his smile as he remembered Bram's orders.

"It's only an extra day or two," Herbert pouted slightly at his answer, "besides, I'm sure you would find Russian hospitality more then suitable for you."

"We will see," he offered with a slight smile. He might be able to convince Bram now.

They walked up to the inn, an average building, just larger, with a stable to one side. Built from a combination of stone and wood. Quiet with little going on at the moment. Anthony turned to say something to Herbert but he wasn't there…he paused then shrugged and headed inside.


	4. Chapter 4

The bustle of the inn was light at the moment.

The large common room was quite that, common. Stained floorboards and a lack of carpet on the floor. A large fireplace set opposite the door burned away with several pops and crackles every now and again, keeping the inside much warmer then the out. A long bar was along the wall where people entered with steps leading up or down on the other end of it. A few tables with some chairs here and there. All together it was a comfortable if ordinary room.

A large, older man, stood at the bar, cutting up some meat and bread. He had round, brown eyes, with a devious sparkle to them. Under them was a large, slightly bulbous, nose and a pair of thick lips that seemed to spit a little whenever he spoke. He had bushy dark brown hair and a similarly colored beard that had a few pieces of crumbs sticking out of it. He had slightly tanned, leathery looking, skin. The man wore a large set of pants and a undershirt as though he was preparing for bed.

He spoke with his daughter, Diana.

"My dear," he said with a totally superior tone of voice, " you must understand that these things happen. It's sad that your grandmother died, for certain. But you have to think of her as well. She's in a better place now."

The girl seemed sad and just nodded, dressed down now in a simple light blue dress and apron over it with a few stains.

The bell on the door resounded the entering Anthony and Diana's father lost track of what he was going to say as the idea of money lit his eyes when he watched the young nobleman. He motioned his daughter off as he looked at the man.

Anthony paused to take in the small room and then nodded politely to the man, looking after Diana with an appraising stare.

"You like her?" the father asked as he pulled some of the better brandy from the shelves and poured a glass for Anthony.

It took him a moment, but Anthony came out of it as her father spoke, blushing slightly as he sat.

"She is a beautiful lady," Anthony offered in as much a political response as he could muster.

Diana blushed and went to sweeping the floors.

"We'll have to see what we can do about that," the father said in response, noting the coat of arms and the station of the man before him, "What else can I help you with?"

"Two rooms, for two nights, possibly four nights," Anthony answered, trying to ignore the implied words for the moment. Business now, possible pleasure later.

"Well ah, the best rooms are open right now sir," he responded, listing off some amount of money that was obviously overpriced for what he was offering.

"Here," Anthony tossed him a bag of coins,, not in the mood to haggle or deal with nonsense "that should cover it, and stabling for the horses as well as any meals. Please do count it."

The larger man wetted his lips in a little apprehension, as though afraid when he went to grab the coins the nobleman would pull them away on some invisible string and laugh at him. He reached out though rather suddenly, his arm reminding one of the quick strike of the snake and also reminding Anthony to keep an eye on his purse around the quick hands of the man. He opened it and poured it out, counting with all the seriousness of anyone with money and then nodding to Anthony.

"More then enough sir, let my daughter Diana there show you to your room," he said, dealing out a good amount of acted respect, "I'll wake the horse hands and some of the maidens in the case you or your traveling companions will need anything."

Anthony nodded but was already getting up as Diana walked over, staring again. A blush flushed her cheeks and she motioned toward the steps, starting to walk in silence. It took Anthony a moment to comprehend before hopping to follow. The father couldn't help but grin after them, going to wake some of the house.

"Diana doesn't sound much like a Russian name," Anthony said, trying to make conversation with the girl as they started up the steps.

"My mother was French," she explained, the sadness in her voice ever apparent, "she always wanted to visit Greece."

"Your well named after a goddess then lady," he smiled at her, laying on the charm.

Her cheeks turned a little more red and she opened a door.

"This is your room, your other room is there," she said as she pointed to a door down the hall, "there is a bath but we'll have to bring in heated water, would you like some this evening/"

He nodded, stepping inside to glance over the modest room.

It was simple, it had a large bed, a dresser, a desk, a coat hanger, and a lamp. Nothing extreme, nothing minor, a happy medium.

"Thank you very much…" he paused as he turned and she wasn't there, that was happening to him a lot lately. He smiled anyway and closed the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Diana returned to her room, getting away from dealing with more people gawking at her. The nobleman fellow seemed nice enough, but he was just another person to stare at her instead of feel anything. She sunk onto her bed starting to cry again, the only person that had understood her had died. She started singing softly, a beautiful, rich voice that was only untrained and sorrowful…

The Russian man watched her from the shadows, she was beautiful, more then that, she wasn't the usual idiots this place dealt out. There was something special about her. _That voice… _Something he admired, but it was distracting him from things needed to be done…he would have it.

He stepped out then, moving over to her without so much of a sound across the creaky boards, sitting next to her. No one would hear her scream outside of the room. The idea of finding any man you didn't know sitting on your bed next to you would get anyone to scream after all.

She scrambled backward away from him, pausing only when he didn't make any move after her. Staring at him in a awed and fearful silence.

The man was strikingly attractive. Stark black silken hair around pale, smooth flesh, powder white with age. He had angular, aristocratic features, thin lips, high cheekbones. He had a deep midnight blue colored eyes that seemed to have sparks of silver as though they reflected the night sky outside. His eyes were the window to his soul. If his age wasn't apparent in his seemed mid-twenties, his eyes gave away the centuries that lie oh so close under the perfect skin. He wore gentleman's clothing, with black dress pants, and a button sleeved and tied deep crimson crushed velvet shirt. Black leather boots and gloves on his feet and hands. A pin to show his coat of arms and his position as the count of the realm rested on the right side of the neck of his shirt. He had an ambience of superiority about him, a complete and utter aura of confidence and dominance….of power.

There was little he did to hide his true nature, little he could have done, he was too ancient to be weak, without being weak he didn't need to hide what he was. In every movement he made, the speed, the grace, the arrogant style, you could see the predator in him. Lurking there so naturally under the surface.

Diana couldn't help but just watch, overwhelmed.

"Do calm down my dearest lady goddess," he said softly, his voice an easy purr. As striking as his appearance, washing over her and calming her as was his desire. It was a deep voice, and though gentle at the moment, she had no problems imagining how frightening it could be if it was to be raised in anger.

She inched away from the wall, scooting slightly closer and finding herself unable to take her eyes from him.

"Don't fear me my lady," he continued, reaching out and stroking her cheek with his gloved and still cold hands, "I will not harm you. I want to give you more then this mundane life. You could be so much more then this simple…"

"This simple what?" she asked with a almost childlike curiosity that drew a rueful smile from him.

"You will see my dear," he answered, he was in control, he was always in control. He knew it and Diana simply accepted it.

"I heard you that day," he explained as he petted back some of her hair, "I heard your prayer. Your fear. You want a reason to live. I want to give you a reason to die."

She stared at him, falling more and more under the entrancement of his voice and his presence, just nodding some in response for a while before realizing what he had said really and growing very wary of him for the first real time.

"Why would you want me to die?" she whispered, as though unable to raise her voice above that weak refrain.

"You must die to live forever," he answered in a return whisper, leaning toward her as he spoke, his tone implying it should have been obvious.

She paused, not backing away, not leaning into his coming embrace. Time slowing for her, as some long lingering note. She knew she could back away, scream, someone might hear her. Did she honestly desire to be heard? The answer was easy enough. It was why she never made a movement to back away from the sharp embrace of his fangs. Or protest as she felt the life start to drain from her body, the warm start to fade into the coolness of his form. She didn't remember the whole evening, only the easy answer to her question….

_No._


	6. Chapter 6

"Where have you been father?" Herbert asked accusingly as the older vampire returned to the large castle via the wind.

As he retook his form, Christian eyed his 'son' with a bit of distaste more than anger.

"I really do believe your manners become less and less," he said in response, not answering his question.

"Where have you been?" Herbert repeated, hands leveling lightly upon his hips in a defiant gesture.

"Finding myself a new childe," he finally answered coolly, moving to sit at his deep mahogany desk within the large study area.

"Now?" Herbert didn't hide his shock very well. "You're two days away from possible rule and you start making a childe now?"

Christian took a moment to look at his son in name, something was bothering him. Otherwise he wouldn't be acting this way.

"Yes Herbert," Christian answered then, "and in the case you forget I do have that right. Besides, she'll be presentable at the ball in this way."

"You push your luck father, the elders will not like this," a disgusted shake of his head followed the statement, almost spitting out the words as though they were a poison that threatened his own existence.

"I am an elder," he responded with the same coolness as usual, "what bothers you my son? Something is obviously getting to you."

"Possible new conquest," a smile lit the more feminine man's face at the reminder, "I invited him to the ball actually. No reason to not have it spiced up a little."

"You can keep him under control?" Christian asked simply.

Herbert nodded, a bit of a desirous spark to his eyes, his fangs showing ever-so-slightly at the thoughts.

"I will be more than capable of doing so father." he answered and lowered his head slightly to be respectful.

"Then let us head to rest," Christian answered, "the sun shall soon rise and we have much to plan in the evening."

*****

"What do you mean she's sick?" Anthony frowned at the inn keep, "she seemed fine yesterday. Would you like for me to fetch a doctor?"

All morning Diana hadn't been seen. She had apparently come down with some flu in the evening and was afraid of letting the customers catch any of her illness. Anthony wasn't too convinced anyone could be that ill that quickly.

"Sir," the large innkeeper protested weakly, "I assure you that she is ill. If you would perhaps like another of the girls here I could arrange it with ease. Miranda should be here soon."

As though on cue, Miranda stepped inside to start her work for the morning. The lean but lithe woman stepping inside with an air of confidence. Long blond hair fell around her shoulders and cascaded over her back, well cared for considering her station in life. She had vibrant hazel eyes that seemed to switch between green and blue depending on the lighting she was in. Currently taking more of a green tone. She wore a rather faded blue dress with an apron over it for work. She did more then whore for the place to get her pay.

She looked around before nodding toward Anthony and Bram with a slight grin curling her full red painted lips She walked over slowly.

"Sir," Anthony seemed insulted at the bartender, ignoring Miranda completely, "I ask because I am simply concerned for the woman. My comrade seems to believe some curse haunts your lands. If so I'd like to help."

It was the innkeepers turn to be nervous. The last time someone went looking for trouble they became the trouble they were looking for. Usually how it worked out at the castle. He shook his head too insistently to be trusted as he protested. "No no sir, not at all. She is just ill. If you'll excuse me. Miranda get these gentlemen whatever they like."

He walked off to see his daughter, fearful that the young nobleman was right in his assumptions. Miranda remained to flirt with the two gentlemen, gaining more of Bram's attention then Anthony's. Nontheless, business was business.

The innkeeper knocked on his daughter's door. His wife emerged however. The short, stocky, heavily built woman scowling at him as she waddled out. Of course, one got used to that. Her face never seemed to do anything but scowl, as though it was trapped in those contorted, bulbous features. She had a large nose that seemed to have been pressed flat across her face. Her cheeks sticking out far enough to be in front of her nose. Her mouth had large cracked lips and more chins then anyone cared to count. She had deep, beady dark eyes with circles underneath them. Graying hair was kept in a bun on her head. Just adding another lump to her head.

"What is it ?" she muttered at him in anger, "Diana needs rest now, she'll be fine, jus' 'as a bit o' de flu, dat's all."

He nodded some, "nothing then, the nobleman just seemed to think it might have been the count or one of his."

"Nah," she shook her head at him, "dere weren't wounds and she 'ad her garlic over the winda' sills."

The man nodded, reassured, "good then. We have to be careful with these two. Don't want them going up to that castle."

She returned the nod gravely and both stood quietly, not knowing that Miranda was arranging things for their trip up there as they spoke.


	7. Chapter 7

The sunset was gorgeous this evening, sending rays of multicolored light across the horizon, sinking lower into the mountains of the west, the colors reflecting slightly off the almost always present snow here. The air grew cooler and the forest started to take on the life it had when there was no more light from the sun. The area was still well lit as the moon already seemed full, though the actual full moon was still a day away it gave the world a new existence. One rarely explored by man.

Christian wouldn't see the lovely sunset…he hadn't for some time. He could remember little of the daylight any longer. He rose with his usual simple routine of getting dressed and bathed. Why people assumed vampires never bathed still amused him…how on earth would they hunt if they stank to such a degree? He shook his head slightly, he had to get his mind on more serious matters, staring at the large mirror in his room even though he couldn't see himself in it. Lost in his thoughts.

It was sometime he just stared, putting his plans slowly into place, before he became aware of a perfume entering the air, it was still very far off, but he noticed it long before it would arrive thanks to his exceedingly heightened senses. It was a light, slightly tangy scent, a mixture of orange and perhaps apricot. He smiled at it in recognition. That would be the perfume of his sire. A short pause before he walked toward his window in slight more annoyance. She was early…he would have to hurry now to get his business in town finished.

*****

"Anthony, you really think you have the time to wander this place and worry little of your studies or work?" Bram asked in what was growing annoyance at the continued badgering of his student.

"Look here," Anthony started to get defensive, "I don't wish to just go and party. This is a great chance for our barony to get some Russian nobles as possible allies or at least learn more about them. It's only another couple days."

"You'd be shocked how much can occur in only two days," Bram replied dryly, "Besides I heard you speaking to that innkeeper about his daughter. Your worry for her wouldn't have anything to do with it would it?"

Anthony paused a moment," Perhaps some, but am I not to care for the peasants under my rule?"

"Yes, all of them," Bram sighed, starting to rub his temples, "not just the pretty girl ones."

"I'm insulted," Anthony almost huffed.

"Fine, fine," Bram waved him away before he got more troublesome, "we'll stay until your damned party and then we are leaving. Do you get me?"

"Yes," Anthony was instantly more cheerful, like the child that got the candy it kept begging it's parents for.

Bram rolled his beady little eyes in a gesture that would have been rather unsettling to anyone else that would have been unfortunate enough to miss it. Glancing out the window as he drummed his fingernails with several clicks across the ledge. Watching the Russian noble headed into the inn below. The one that had thought to invite Anthony to stay would be his guess…he narrowed his eyes suspiciously and got up heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Anthony asked him, slightly concerned he had pushed his friend too far this time.

"You have company downstairs," he explained quietly, "I'm simply going along to be threatening."

"Are you sure that's wise Bram?" Anthony frowned at the idea, "it's a bit insulting isn't it?"

"To show that you have strength behind you? And that you aren't fool enough to simply trust anything he does?" Bram chided, "no. Lets go."

Anthony followed with a slight mutter under his breath, walking downstairs with his bodyguard and mentor in silent toe. A little guardian raven-man fellow.

The common room had a few more patrons this evening, but most of them were quiet. There seemed little to celebrate in this god forsaken snow covered land. However Herbert seemed almost glowing, a cheerful smile on his lips as though he hadn't a care in the world. This only brightened when he saw Anthony.  
"Hello An-toe-knee," he said with his usual accented way, "how are you?"

Anthony couldn't help but smile a bit at the charismatic fellow before him, "I am well Baron, and you?"

"Call me Herbert, I insist." He grinned and motioned to his table. "I am very well, though hoping that you, and possibly your friend here can make the ball soon?"

"Oh, I apologize," Anthony instantly turned toward Bram, "This is Sir Bram…"

"Just Bram," his friend interrupted him before he got a chance to finish.

"A humble knight," Herbert commented as he watched the unattractive fellow, "how nice to see one that follows the actual codes these days."

Bram didn't comment, just stared at the man as he sat near where Anthony did. Being generally unsettling to most of the people around, though Herbert seemed to simply ignore it as though it was nothing.

"Yes," Anthony attempted to break the tension, "we will be staying for the ball. Though we'll have to leave the next morning to try to keep up with our schedule."

Herbert ignored Bram fully at the news, his grin widening, "Good. This is wonderful news, I will have rooms prepared for you both immediately."

"We'd prefer one room," Bram spoke quietly, breaking in.

"Or one room if you would like…" Herbert sent Bram a slight glare, "whatever is better for you both."

"Thank you Herbert," Anthony said, still trying to keep the tension to a lower degree.

"How would you like to go hunting for a little while An-toe-knee," Herbert asked, "game isn't real common here, but we could get lucky."

Anthony nodded slightly, glancing toward the hall where he knew Diana's room was. Concern still weighting on his mind, though there was little that he could do. Perhaps she would feel better tomorrow before the ball. Then he could invite her…


	8. Chapter 8

Christian returned to his castle though not before his sire had arrived. Slightly perturbed by her unannounced promptness and a little excited to see her. He curled his form together from the mists in his study as he watched her.

The woman was pretty. She was, of course, pale. Her skin taking on a almost translucent appearance. She had long slightly curly dark reddish hair that fell over her shoulders and down her back to just above her waste. She wore a rather revealing but form fitting purplish/black dress with trim along either side to show off her milky colored flesh. She had the most intriguing violet eyes one could dream. They seemed to swirl or cloud over with different unknown thoughts. Evil things dwelled within her, all seen through her eyes. Most disturbing to any regular mortal.

Christian was not effected however by the slight magic's of her. Long since having grown over them as he'd grown within his own power, gotten his own age and might. He however bowed slightly though she wasn't looking his way.

"Good evening Alexandria," he greeted in earnest, grinning slightly at her jump, "how are you this fine night?"

"Christian," she chided as she turned to see him, "you should know much better than to simply pop out on me like that. What if I had reacted badly?"

"Then I'd of had to kill you," he responded coolly, challenging her in a less than subtle way.

The silence grew slowly longer between the two as they met gazes, a silent battle for control. It was only moments in real time, longer for them but after the short time the woman glanced away. She wasn't giving up, simply withdrawing for the time being from it.

"You play dangerous games here Christian," she warned him as her eyes wandered his shelf of books on the occult.

"I don't play games sire," he answered, "I simply finish things that need to be finished. I will no longer tolerate you simply arriving whenever you wish. I am above it."

She turned back to him, looking over him with a bit more of a wary way.

"Your request is granted." She whispered after a while, looking away in annoyance. Too prideful to want to give any ground to her children. Mortal or otherwise.

"Good," Christian nodded, not so very much emotional than before, but less threatening.

"The party is tomorrow Christian." She reminded. "Where were you off gallivanting about?"

"I had business Alexandria." He stated coolly, again getting annoyed by her prater.

Another short pause and he motioned to some steps within the large room that doubled as the library itself.

"Your room is as it always is, I've no need to show you to it…go then," he shooed her off with the words, "I've no need to show you to it."

At that he turned away from her in a very dismissive manner, walking without sound to his desk and seating himself.

"You press your luck Christian," she hissed slightly, angered at his rudeness.

"Or you press yours." Was his quiet response, his eyes churning slightly at the challenge. "Last chance to peacefully return to your room."

Again, Alexandria was taken aback by his sudden actions, not having remembered her childe so stubborn and free-willed. She stared for just a split second before walking for the steps and exiting in the same silence. A subtle and yet not so subtle reminder that she wasn't young or weak herself.

Christian sighed slightly after she left…there was one of the jobs of the evening finished…too many to go for him to get much enjoyment out of this evening. He leaned back and brooded as he waited for word of more guests. Everything would fall into place.


End file.
